


Twenty-Three Seconds

by Anonymous



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers: Endgame, Canon Compliant, Explicit detail of Tony's mind when he dies, I'm Sorry, M/M, Not Beta Read, Tony dies, Tony's POV, Tony's death explained, author has arranged a ride to church trust me inspired, everyone cries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25194184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Avengers: Endgame, but you get to see what Tony thinks as he dies.(Only Tony Stark/Peter Parker if you squint. Everything described is literally what happens in the movie, but from inside Tony's head.)
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35
Collections: Anonymous





	Twenty-Three Seconds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [author has arranged a ride to church trust me](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=author+has+arranged+a+ride+to+church+trust+me).



> Twenty-three seconds from beginning to end, all from Tony's mind. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: TONY DOES STILL DIE. THIS IS LITERALLY THE EXACT SAME AS THE MOVIE. I HAVE CHANGED ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.

Twenty-three seconds. The length of time it might take to get out of bed, or to tie up a pair of shoes. It’s nothing in the span of a day; a day has 86,400 seconds and twenty-three of them could be spent staring at a wall. But these twenty-three seconds are the most important that Tony could spend in the entire expanse of his existence. 

At first, it’s like seeing a ghost. Tony feels his soul leave his body before it’s sucked right back in. It’s almost euphoric, the silhouette of Peter swinging through the air like that to land not even five metres from Tony’s feet. For some stupid second of time, Tony is sure he’s died. There’s no way that Peter is here,  _ like really here,  _ after five years of him being gone. The shadow of the kid washes over Tony as he moves closer, arm extended to help him stand. 

“Hey! Holy cow,” Peter babbles as he pulls Tony up, hand a warm weight on his shoulder despite the layers of metal and cloth between them. Tony knows that Peter is chaotic, knew it from the second they met, but this is by far the scariest thing that he’s ever done.

There’s a thousand thoughts running through Tony’s mind -  _ what happened? Are you okay? Where did you go? Why didn’t you come back? Why did you have to break my heart like that? What is wrong with you? You could have been here sooner, I wish you could have been here sooner, you missed so much, you should be 22 by now but you’re still 17, still such a small kid  _ \- and Tony knows that, realistically, Peter couldn’t control it. He had no idea what was happening, and he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t stop his body from turning to ash in Tony’s hands, couldn’t stop Tony from thinking about it every night for the past five years, couldn’t stop Tony from having a panic attack every time he saw a photo of Peter (even though the frame of Peter and Tony in the kitchen is something that Tony would never get rid of).

Four seconds.

“Do you remember when we were in space? And I got all dusty?” Peter continues, a small smile on his face. It’s confusing, that the kid can be happy like this when Tony, oh God, Tony can feel a panic attack brimming - Peter is here, finally here, and he’s talking a million words a minute and usually, Tony would tell him to calm down, but he can’t bring himself to speak, not when Peter is so excited and so happy and just so  _ alive. _

Tony knows, he knows that there is still a war gliding past his ears but all he wants to do is stick a booster on Peter’s back and send him home so that he can do what he knows he has to. Stephen said it, and there’s no way that he can pretend that Peter will be okay after seeing what he’s going to do.

“I must’ve passed out, cause when I woke up you were  _ gone _ .” Peter says it like it’s some sort of conspiracy theory, eyes widening as he speaks. 

He wants to laugh. He wants to cry. He wants to tell Peter to shut up. He wants to tell Peter to never stop talking. This kid, this stupid, reckless kid has been the reason for Tony’s turmoil for the last five years and still has the audacity to say that  _ Tony  _ disappeared? That Tony was the one to up and leave Peter stranded, stuck on this god-awful planet, fate balanced on a wire so thin that Tony was constantly teetering between insanity and annihilation? 

“But Doctor Strange was there, right? He was like, ‘It’s been five years. Come on, they need us!’ And then he started doing the yellow sparkly thing he does all the time,” Peter explains, arms out to show Stephen’s movements, fingers folded correctly and everything. Tony feels a small part of his heart twang; he knows that he’s Peter’s celebrity crush of sorts, knows that he was a fan before they became teammates, and he can’t help but think that Peter might have tried to impersonate him at some point in time. 

Fifteen seconds. 

Tony feels himself move before he knows that he is, little wounded sounds escaping his throat before he has a chance to stop them. And it is painful for him to move, so battered and bruised that he isn’t sure why he hasn’t passed out from pain yet, and then the last of Peter’s questions are lost as Tony encases Peter in his arms. 

It feels like it’s been a lifetime since that night when they had sat in Tony’s car. He can’t help but think of how rude he had been, how he could have been nicer, maybe more sincere, maybe told Peter that yes, he did have his number. He has it stored in his phone still, to this day. On the nights it was bad, he sent Peter text messages. When it was really bad, he would call him. He knew it wasn’t helping at all, knew that he was doing more harm than good but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. This reminds him of when he leaned across the car and opened the door for Peter to get out; told him gruffly ‘ _ it’s not a hug, I’m just grabbing the door for you, we’re not there yet.’  _

They were. Tony was just too stupid to see it.

The hug throws Peter off, easy to tell by the way he lets out a long exhale, but he doesn’t shy away from it. He seems to sink into it, hands gripping the back of Tony’s suit in less than a second -  _ eighteen seconds  _ \- and eyes clenching so tight, so scared that this might not really be happening. Tony’s eyes are wide open, glossy from tears that haven’t fallen, that won’t fall, as he looks up at the sky. Tony doesn’t believe in God, hasn’t for a very long time, but he thanks Him for bringing Peter home -  _ to him -  _ safe and sound. 

He knows what’s coming. He can feel it in his bones, he can tell that this can’t last forever and he needs to move so that Peter can stay alive and go home to his Aunt May and his friends. 

He needs to get the stones. 

_ Twenty-three seconds.  _

And then it’s over. 

Tony is the first to move even though his joints feel like they’re locked in place. He swallows thickly and steps back, hands holding Peter’s shoulders in a firm grip. Peter’s hands are wrapped around his wrists but he drops them, a pained confusion covering his face. He peers up at Tony, question in his eyes but all Tony does is nod resolutely and step back again, breaking their moment into a million pieces. 

The next few minutes blur together in Tony’s mind. He knows he talks about Thanos destroying the quantum tunnel, can even briefly hear that God-awful horn blare off in the distance and then before he knows it, he’s bowed on one knee, eyes locked on Thanos. 

“And I… am… Iron Man.”

He becomes blissfully unaware for the next thirty seconds or so -  _ his time with Peter was less than this  _ \- and then it all comes crashing back when Peter decides to make his presence known again. 

_ Why can’t I just die in peace? _

“Mr. Stark?” Peter calls. He sounds like a kicked puppy, and looks like one too, even in the haze of his eyesight, those warm brown eyes find a way to cut through. They’re not warm now, though. They’re cold and red and teary and so, so hurt that Tony whimpers low in his own throat. The kid’s fingers hook over the breastplate of Tony’s suit, not to move him but to hold him, too scared to hug in because his arm…

His arm.

“Hey, Mr. Stark? Can you hear me? It’s Peter. Hey, we won, Mr. Stark… We won. You did it, sir. You did it.” 

The repetition of those few words makes a blistering pain, worse than before, seer through Tony’s chest. He blinks up at Peter, unable to speak, eyes trying to convey what he wants to say, what he needs Peter to understand before he-- before--

Peter hugs him. This is the second and last time. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter sobs, “Tony, I’m sorry.”

Tony feels something rise up his throat, words or blood he’s unsure because it’s warm and gushing and Tony just wants to talk, wants to let Peter know that it’s not his fault, he doesn’t need to apologise because  **_it was never your fault._ ** But he can’t. All he can do is look at Peter, eyes wide and frightened, because he can’t die now if Peter thinks this is his fault. He can’t let Peter have that on his shoulders. He can’t let Peter think that he is to blame - it was never you, Peter. God, please, just  _ understand. _

And then Peter is gone, and Pepper is there, and he hears her say his name and finally he can speak, but he can’t say what he wants, he can’t tell her to help him, tell him,  _ FUCKING TELL HIM THIS WAS NEVER HIS FAULT. PLEASE. GOD. PLEASE. _

But no one seems to hear, and Tony dies, desperation clawing out from his chest, begging for another twenty-three seconds so that he can tell Peter that he was the bravest person Tony had ever met.

**Author's Note:**

> Please no hate! This was inspired by the author under the tag 'author has already arranged a ride to church trust me'. If you are them, I love your work and really wish I could talk to you!!


End file.
